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Chapter 46 The P-Word
🕑 Added 2025-06-09 03:00:05 +0000 UTCThe next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed, having cleaned up, changed into fresh clothes, and had a full night's sleep. And our little camp was warm from the fire. Honestly, it was the best sleep I had had in weeks.
Sure, I was still a little stiff, and the ground was hard, but it was way better than last night, and way better than the nights before that.
I looked around and found that everyone else was still sleeping, with only Arata and I awake, since he had the last watch. “Anything of note happening?” I asked as I stretched.
“Nothing,” Arata said without looking over. He sat cross-legged near the edge of the fire, a thin layer of smoke curling around his ankles. “Kuro twitched once in his sleep, scared a frog. That’s the height of excitement.”
I huffed and pushed myself up, joints cracking like dry branches. “Guess we’ll take boring for once. Beats being stressed and on edge all the time.”
He hummed in agreement.
Bit by bit, the others began to stir—Haruto groaning and immediately regretting it, Koji rolling over and mumbling something about needing ten more hours, and Kuro yawning wide enough to show every fang in his mouth.
Once everyone was up and had eaten, I stretched again, more purposefully this time. “Alright,” I announced, brushing crumbs off my lap. “We’ve been cramped, stiff, and miserable for two weeks. Today, we move.”
Haruto squinted at me. “Move where?”
I smirked. “Nowhere. We’re training.”
Koji cracked his knuckles. “Now that I can get behind!”
It wasn’t anything heavy, not today. We ran a few laps around the perimeter, stretched, went through kata and balance drills, and slowly brought our bodies back to life.
Arata and Haruto weren’t the taijutsu type, but they still had strong bodies and were able to keep up with me and Koji, though it was only a light workout.
After an hour, we split—Arata and Haruto facing each other across a short clearing, trading light blows and weaving simple chakra forms between dodges. Koji and I moved into a wider patch of mossy ground, circling like it was instinct.
Kuro watched from the side, tail thudding in approval whenever someone landed a clean strike.
“Don’t go easy on me,” I said.
Koji gave a quick nod, face already focused. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
And then we moved.
He struck first—quick and low, a sweeping kick meant to knock me off balance. I stepped around it with ease and caught his ankle mid-turn, twisting him just enough to force him into a roll.
Koji recovered fast, pushing off the ground with a grunt and coming at me again with a short flurry of strikes—hands, elbows, knees. He was fast, no doubt about that. Wild too. Like an avalanche.
I parried each strike with measured grace. Where he was all muscle and momentum, I was water and precision. I turned his attacks aside, redirected his weight, kept him dancing to my rhythm without ever letting him find his own.
He backed off, panting lightly, and I tilted my head. “You’re improving.”
“How kind of you, almost making it sound like there was ever a time I didn’t kick your ass without breaking a sweat.” I said, lunging in this time.
I feinted high, then dipped low, sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a breathless oof, but rolled fast, scrambling upright again, covered in dust.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think I felt that in my teeth.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t aim for your ribs.”
We circled again, breath misting in the cool morning air.
“You’re holding back,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.
“Of course I am,” I said calmly. “If I knocked you on your ass, who would I spar with? Kuro? You know I can’t make myself hurt such a good boy.”
Koji laughed—a short, embarrassed sound—but there was a spark of pride in his eyes. He knew it too. Knew the gap between us. But he wasn’t quitting, “if only you knew.”
He came again, this time using his footwork better. I had to admit, he wasn’t bad, but he often just used raw power over technique. That worked fine against someone weaker and with skills around his level, but against me?
I stepped inside his guard, slipped around his strike, and planted a palm against his chest. With a light push—barely any chakra—I sent him stumbling back again.
“You’ve got guts,” I said, lowering my arms. “And you don’t break easy. That’s a good start.”
Koji straightened up, brushing himself off. “Damn right we Inuzuka men don’t break, we do the breaking!”
I don’t think he realized the implications of his words, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit of heat in my cheeks. My own dirty modern mind working against me.
He didn’t say anything right away, just circled again—wary now, more deliberate. He wasn’t charging in recklessly anymore. That was new.
“Thinking before acting,” I said aloud, letting him hear the approval in my tone. “That might be the scariest improvement of all.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Koji muttered, but he flashed a grin before darting forward again.
This time, he tried to fake a spin, then dropped into a crouch, hands flashing toward my legs. I pivoted and stepped on his hand, pinning it gently but firmly to the earth. He winced.
“Is that the best you got dog boy?” I taunted, taking a wide step back, dropping into the classic Gentle Fist stance.
My taunting game was pretty weak. And he didn’t fall for it, yet he was kind enough to play along.
Koji surged up again, twisting out from under my step and using the momentum to push into a shoulder-check. It was clever, trying to use his lower stance to unbalance me, but I anticipated it and leaned away just enough, letting his weight carry him forward.
I caught his sleeve and turned his momentum against him, spinning him in place before giving him a light tap on the back with my palm.
“Tag,” I said with a smirk.
He stumbled, caught his footing, and glared at me—not with real anger, but frustration wrapped in admiration. “One day, you won’t be able to do that.”
“In your dreams.”
He exhaled hard and wiped his forehead. “You know,” he said between breaths, “most people would just say thank you when someone tries their hardest to fight them.”
“Oh? Was that your hardest?” I teased, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Because I thought I saw Arata hitting harder this morning. And he’s got the knees of a retired librarian.”
Once more, he acted like my taunt worked, and jumped at me, this time going at high speed. So far, we had been playing around. Barely used any strength or speed, this time, he moved as a blur.
In response, I too moved with speed matching his. Neither of us was as fast as Minato or Shisui, but we weren’t slow, our speed right now was Tokubetsu Jōnin.
And we quickly used that speed to engage in a game of tag, jumped around the trees, flashing from one to another, appearing on a branch one moment, on the trunk of another tree the next, or even upside down on a third branch.
High-speed movements like those could be done in a few ways, one was the body flicker, a hybrid technique of ninjutsu and taijutsu, or just use either of the two.
That said, using purely ninjutsu was beyond both of us, only Flying Thunder God would do that, and while I knew the steps, I hadn’t even started on learning it yet.
Which just left purely taijutsu, which was what we were currently using. Short, extreme bursts of movement. Powered by chakra and muscle alone, just bursts of chakra, no fancy tricks.
Before long, we returned to the ground. He never did touch me, but he got close, almost grabbed my hair, but he didn’t; he hesitated.
Both of us were ready to continue the spar where we left off, but that hesitation made me pause.
“You’ve been acting strange around me,” I said quietly. Just loud enough for him to hear over the soft sounds of the others training nearby. “Why?”
Koji blinked. The tension in his arms didn’t drop, but his mouth opened like he might say something—then snapped shut again.
I stepped back without striking.
“Kuro’s not the only one who sees it, you know,” I added, a little more softly this time. “You don’t need to hide it.”
His face flushed. Not from exertion. From something else.
He looked away, scratched the back of his neck, then finally gave a helpless shrug. “You’re terrifying. You know that, right?”
“Terrifying how?”
“Like…” He paused, eyes meeting mine again. “Never mind!” he shouted as he came at me.
I stepped past his lunge with the smallest amount of movement I could, I could feel the air rush over my skin. In return, I swung around, slamming my fist onto his back.
I held back a lot and didn’t use the Gentle Fist, just the form, so while he was sent face-first into the muddy ground, he got back up again the next second. “I will find your secret, so why not give it up.”
Koji pushed to his feet again, mud streaked across his face, a smear running down one cheekbone like a poorly applied war-paint stripe. His expression was half scowl, half stubborn grin.
“I think you cracked something,” he muttered, dusting off his knees. “Probably my pride.”
“Your pride was cracked before we even started,” I said, voice light but firm. “You’ve just been ignoring it.”
Koji huffed and spat a clump of soggy moss off his lip. “You know, for someone so graceful, you fight like a damn avalanche.”
“You calling me heavy?”
“I’m calling you unstoppable,” he shot back, then paused, blinked, and scratched his head awkwardly. “Uh. Not like that.”
I raised an eyebrow, feeling confused. I feel like I missed something, because there was nothing wrong with calling me unstoppable, because I was, or would be, in time. There was no need deny it and act like he did something wrong.
So clearly, I missed something.
“You’re… weird,” I said after a moment, brushing a stray leaf from my sleeve. “And not in the fun way. In the ‘what the hell is going on in your head’ way.”
Koji opened his mouth, then shut it again. He shook his head, rubbing his face. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”
“Try me.”
He looked at me, really looked this time. Not a glance or a side-eye or one of those quick checks he thought I didn’t notice. This was the kind of look someone gives when they’re balancing on a line between bravery and sheer stupidity.
Then he smiled. Just a little. Just crooked enough to make me suspicious.
“You know,” he said, backing away a step and cracking his neck, “for someone so good at reading movements, you’re terrible at reading signals.”
I blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer—at least not with words. Instead, he came in fast again. I blocked it easily, turning his fist aside and stepping in close. Too close.
He was suddenly right in my face, his eyes reflecting mine, and I panicked, sending him flying back.
Koji hit the ground with a solid thud, sliding through the moss before coming to a stop on his back, arms splayed out.
“Okay!” he wheezed. “Definitely deserved that one.”
I stood there, blinking, hands still half-raised in a defensive stance, heart thudding a little harder than it should’ve. I hadn’t meant to hit him that hard. I hadn’t meant to hit him at all.
“What was that?” I demanded, more sharply than I intended.
Koji stayed on the ground, one hand lazily waving in surrender. “Call it a failed experiment.”
I crossed my arms, still feeling a little too warm for comfort. “And what exactly were you experimenting with?”
He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Proximity. Tension. Chemistry.” A crooked grin. “You know. Science.”
I stared.
He shrugged. “Hey, worth a shot.”
Kuro barked in the distance—just once, sharp and amused.
“Traitor,” Koji muttered under his breath.
I walked over and offered him a hand. He looked at it, then up at me, and for a second, I thought he might say something else—something meaningful, or maybe just something stupid. But he didn’t.
He just took my hand, and I pulled him to his feet.
“You’re still weird,” I said as he dusted himself off.
“I get that a lot.”
“Training’s over,” I said. “I don’t want to break you too soon, I need to stretch for the next few days, or I will lose it, and you are my best partner here.”
Koji froze.
He didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Just… froze.
For a second, I thought I’d hit him harder than I realized. Then I saw the way his eyes widened, the way his shoulders jerked back, and I knew—whatever just happened had landed harder than any of my strikes ever could.
“P–Partner?” he echoed, his voice suddenly about three octaves higher than usual.
I frowned. “Yeah?” I glanced around. “You okay?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Y-you said I’m your partner.”
My brows furrowed. “Well, you are, aren’t you? You and Kuro are the best trackers. You’ve got my back. You’ve proven yourself over and over again. What else am I supposed to call you?”
His mouth opened and closed again like a fish trying to breathe air, his brain clearly short-circuiting. Then, he turned away abruptly and hunched down, pretending to adjust his footwraps—or maybe just to hide his entire face from view.
I took a step closer, squinting. “Wait... what exactly did you think I meant?”
He didn’t answer. Kuro, sitting off to the side, let out a low groan that could only be described as exasperated.
“Koji.” I crossed my arms. “Tell me what’s going on.”
He turned back, cheeks red enough to be visible even under the dirt. “You can’t just say things like that!”
“Like what?”
“‘Partner!’ That means something! To an Inuzuka, that’s—that’s basically like—” He choked on the word. “Like proposing!”
I blinked. Then blinked again. “…What?”
Not far away, Kuro was losing it.
(End of chapter)
Now, I normally don’t spend two weeks barely moving, but I figured they would want a proper workout after that, and well, what better workout than a fight?
And are Yuki finally gonna get it? is Koji finally gonna say it?
